America

MOVIE REVIEW . Memoirs of a Geisha

Over the Christmas weekend Kris and I attended showings of Brokeback Mountain and Memoirs of a Geisha. Having been reading the book for the past few weeks (I tend to read three at a time), and Kris being exceedingly busy with her new work, I decided to tackle the Geisha film myself. What follows was written on a sort of stream of consciousness basis, but please bear with me.

Controversy aside, Memoirs of a Geisha remains a gleaming example of artistic ineptitude and corporate greed. As a film it is terrible. As an adaptation it belly flops worse than Congo. Rob Marshall fails to create a single compelling scene, despite being spoon fed gorgeous locations, “Oscar Calibre” actors, and Yo-Yo Ma’s ever-swelling violins.

First and foremost are the problems with the performances. The actresses (aside from Michelle Yeoh), chosen for bank-ability and being non-English speakers, merely parrot lines they do not understand, feeding off of audio queues, and punctuating them with not-quite-right happy or sad facial expressions as needed. Never once do you feel their plight, happiness, rage, or disgust. It’s like watching a bad ESL Lifetime special. Zhang Ziyi, in particular, is far from convincing as Sayuri. Her mannerisms, posture, everything is off. Even her dance, in the scene where she auctions off her virginity, is comical rather than beautiful. I have remarked before about Ziyi’s acting ability, but this time even Kris mentioned she had the range of a “rubber doll.” Gong Li looks beautiful, as Hatsumomo, but the woman would look beautiful dressed in a gunny-sack and covered in dirt. That said, I would like to mention that Ken Watanabe (The Last Samurai), Michelle Yeoh (Police Story 3), and Kôji Yakusho (Doppelganger, Charisma) do make an admirable effort, and help raise the film slightly above worst picture of the year status.

Golden’s source material, the fictional tale of a fisherman’s daughter’s rise to fame, becoming the most revered Geisha in the land, was a superbly nuanced, complex piece of literature. Sadly the adaptation suffers from the American desire to dumb everything down to the lowest common denominator. Lines from the book - beautiful long, detailed sentences, mind you - are reduced to bad haiku imposters. Chiyo/Sayuri’s motivations are similarly dumbed down to cries of “Where’s my sister?” in the first half, and “I want to look good so the nice man will notice me,” pining in the second. The wood vs. water explanation becomes she has water, and water is not wood. Hatsumomo is merely mean, and Pumpkin a garbage eater and flirty flirt. Character departures, such as Grandma’s death, are never covered, so the actor merely disappears midway through the film. I’m guessing the production thought most audiences wouldn’t notice. But what would you expect with a film tailor made for American illiterates?

Marshall, the man responsible for the dreadful Chicago should rightly shoulder the blame for this catastrophe. The production, being designed for maximum box-office impact as it was, seems to have been helmed on autopilot, and consequentially has near endless list of shortcomings. No effort is made to educate the audience about the Japanese culture or to distinguish Geisha from prostitutes. Only a few lines are muttered to the effect that Geisha don’t do dirty stuff. Even the simple issue of a Geisha’s need to preserve her hairstyle, so complex it had to be worn for days after being set, is ignored though many pages are devoted to the topic in Golden’s book. Every time the women enter the Okiya they take down their hair. No effort is made to ensure all actors pronounced Japanese terms correctly, though admittedly most Americans wouldn’t notice (note the imbecilic laughter on the TV show, Friends, when Ross pronounces “Karate” correctly). Perfect for lovers of manufactured exoticism and armchair travel, but far from satisfying for those seeking enlightenment. There is no denying Memoirs of a Geisha is nice to look at, but it is still nothing more than a gilded turd.

About the Author:

Chris Nelson is a part time tech writer for a small company in Palo Alto focusing on Sarbanes Oxley Compliance and full time Software Engineering student at SJSU. He enjoys history and literature and detests most television.